


Think About It

by girlintheglen



Series: Quickies ... Under 1000 Words [23]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-23 03:29:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21313441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlintheglen/pseuds/girlintheglen
Summary: The photo is just a bonus... you're welcome.
Series: Quickies ... Under 1000 Words [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/871542
Kudos: 8





	Think About It

**Author's Note:**

> The photo is just a bonus... you're welcome.

Illya Kuryakin was in a familiar situation, being questioned by a lunatic from THRUSH. This particular lunatic appeared to have delusions of belonging to a revival of Edwardian society, although it might simply have been a fashion statement, considering it was the sixties and not considered out of step for a man to dress in a ruffled shirt.

“Mister Kuryakin, I am curious to know at what point we can accurately define your knowledge of the inner workings of the Soviet Union’s ability to infiltrate the Hierarchy.” It was a ludicrous assumption, thinking that Kuryakin had access to the Kremlin now that he was a member of the U.N.C.L.E.

“Ah, to define is to limit. It would be _reckless_ of me to divulge anything related to Soviet spy craft, particularly anything concerning THRUSH.” Illya was stalling for time, he expected his partner to show up sooner than later; at least he hoped so.

The interrogator, Cornelius Biggins, smiled at the reference to his favorite writer.

“I see you know your Wilde, _The Portrait of Dorian Gray_. And that is gray with an ‘a’, not _grey_ with an ‘e’.” The qualification of spelling out the word was another indication of the man’s absurd and presumptuous character. Illya considered killing him in that moment, an impulse that was countered by the fact his hands were tied behind his back.

Illya had his eyes on the man while his senses took in the room. It was designed with some degree of finesse, although several elements were lavishly embellished with gold, including, not coincidentally, a portrait of Billings dressed in the same Edwardian style which he was wearing on this day. Something about the portrait and the gilded frame made Illya fairly certain that there was something behind it, most likely a safe. It was the reason he was here, to steal the contents of what Billings kept in there. ‘Where the devil is Napoleon?’, his thoughts wandered to that question once more. The two them were the only ones on this mission to divest Billings of the information he held, so a timely rescue was up to the American side of the partnership. As Illya reflected on this he was very close to simply standing up and rushing the foppish fellow when Billings stood up and, putting his hand to his heart, fell forward into a heap at Kuryakin’s feet.

Hmmm…

Had he simply fainted, or died? Illya was still sitting, hands tied behind his back, when Napoleon came rushing into the room, his gun drawn as though ready for a battle. When he saw Billings on the floor and took in his partner’s obvious inability to have accomplished that, he shot Illya a questioning look.

“I have no idea, he just stood up and collapsed. I believe he might be dead. I had wished it to be so, but I doubt that had any effect on the outcome.’ The expression was deadpan, his voice without intonation.

“Then again, I may have developed heightened powers.” Napoleon laughed out loud.

“What sort of powers would that be?” Now Illya was smiling.

“I don’t know, let me try it out.” He closed his eyes and looked as though concentrating on something…

Just as Illya imagined the person he would most like to see, April Dancer and Mark Slate entered the room, surprised at seeing Illya still tied up and Billings crumpled up on the floor. Illya’s expression gave Napoleon a slight shiver as the Russian’s eyes opened too wide at the sight of April. Solo mouthed the question…

“Did you…?” 

Illya could only nod his head in the affirmative.


End file.
